


breathless

by apersonsuit



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Riding, Sharing a Bed, peter drives tony up the wall pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 18:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18103874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apersonsuit/pseuds/apersonsuit
Summary: It took Peter so long to get Tony to even touch him at all and now that he finally has, now that they've moved past the stubbornness and the guilt and the ethics (or lack thereof) behind it all, it's like he doesn’t want to stop.





	breathless

**Author's Note:**

> warning: unbeta'd
> 
> song title is from a song called "breathless" by I M U R 
> 
> this is pure filth. read the archive warning. don't say i didn't warn you.

Peter Parker is no good at sleeping. Staring at a ceiling for really long hours until it’s halfway into the night and he’s irreversibly fucked his sleeping schedule has become standard procedure for when it’s just him alone in his twin bed. When he’s with Tony, then, it worsens by a thousand degrees: he can’t snap his eyes shut for as long as he can hear Tony’s elevated breathing next to him, discernibly still awake, his pretty nose arching up against the faint light in his ridiculously large bedroom. 

(And, well, Tony doesn’t sleep any better than he does, so that’s that.) 

A pretty thing Tony’s nose is indeed, Peter rethinks as he stares at Tony’s side profile in what he imagines to be a very creepy way. Renaissance-artist-carved, and all things alike. Every detail of Tony’s body seems to have been meticulously made perfect, a unique painting amid too many ordinary ones, and god Peter wants to slap the cheesiness out of himself for even thinking that. He’d never hear the end of it were he to say those things out loud while Tony is around, despite their veracity, eager as Tony is to constantly deny how amazing a man he really is.

It took Peter so long to get Tony to even touch him—too many carefully planed ambushes, and by the end of it, what cracked Tony’s shell open was Peter’s spontaneity—that now that he finally has what he wanted, he doesn’t want Tony to ever stop. He never not wants Tony’s hands all over him, and so when he’s not actively working towards not letting Tony out of his sight, he’s thinking about Tony in one way or another. His entire world boils down to the _gorgeous_ , way-out-of-his-league-man lying next to him and god it makes his chest burn with all kinds of want. 

“Tony?” Peter finally whispers, too impatient and needy and not one bit of shame attached to it. It helps that he’s fully naked under the covers; he hates sleeping with clothes on when he’s with Tony, and it might as well backfire at him at some point, but he’s not sorry now.

Tony’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly, but he makes no acknowledgement of Peter’s presence. 

_Well, if this is how we’re going to play_. Peter grins wickedly. “Tony…” He whispers again, adamant on winning the prize. “I know you’re awake. Come on,” Splaying his hand over Tony’s chest, he plants a kiss to Tony’s neck and starts rutting his naked cock against Tony’s thigh. Playing dirty, he knows, but he’s so horny already, so hot for Tony and no one else.

Tony doesn’t move a muscle, to Peter’s annoyance. But he’s not giving up so easily. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say, so he plays an even dirtier move: climbing onto Tony’s lap, he kisses and licks at the other side of Tony’s neck, letting out a little whimper as he grinds down on Tony’s fabric-covered cock. 

It is then that Peter knows he’s won, when Tony’s shaft starts to swell up underneath him, adding a delicious friction to Peter’s rutting and causing Tony to finally open his eyes under him. “Peter,” He sighs, trying to be impassive, but not quite managing it; his voice is strained around the edges, he won’t meet Peter’s eyes, and a quick glance down tells Peter that his hands are clenching the bed sheets to keep himself from touching. “Fucks sake,” Tony breathes. 

Maybe Peter hasn’t won yet. But be damned, the old man underestimates the libido of a seventeen year old sleeping in the same bed as his childhood hero’s, and so he makes a point of making sure Tony regrets it. He’s bratty that way.

“Touch me, Tony. Come on,” He pleads, burying his head deeper in Tony’s neck and rutting against Tony’s half-hard cock in painfully slow thrusts. The languid motion burns at his core, torturous and all too good to be true at once, and he sighs into Tony’s ears. Tony’s cock grows harder under him and he’s sure Tony’s going to break this time around, so he props himself against the headboard for support and grinds down a little slower, letting out a dirty little moan that will, without a doubt, get Tony to finally touch him.

And so Tony does exactly that, lifts his hands from the sheets up to meet Peter’s ass and digs his nails into Peter’s sensitive skin, a possessive move that will most likely leave a mark. Here’s the thing, though, Peter’s a man of his word, and his promise to make sure Tony regrets ignoring him was no joke, so he does the one thing he’s sure will drive Tony up the wall: pulling both his hands away, Peter looks at him and musters a “Nuh-huh.”

The look on Tony’s face is absolute gold, one that sparkles unyielding confidence in Peter. “No touching.” Peter reaffirms and places his hand over Tony’s chest, holding him down. 

He revels in the thrill of it, having never done anything like it before. Truth be told, Peter didn’t see the appeal in being on top until this very moment, hand splayed over Tony, knowing damn well Tony wouldn’t be able to move if he tried to due to his spider-strength. It makes him feel overwhelmingly powerful and _horny_ at once.

Tony cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything. Peter sees it as a cue to keep going, defiant in his grip, exploring foreign territory. With admirable agility, he motions toward the nightstand and grabs the bottle of lube they’d been using in the past week, coating his fingers with the liquid. Tony stares at him, positively riddled, and Peter has to hold back from responding with a mischievous grin. He never wants to forget the way Tony looks right now, so handsome and vulnerable under him, he’d take a picture if he could. 

What Peter does next has Tony’s mouth falling open and staying that way: in a smooth move, he reaches back and starts massaging the sensitive skin around his hole, the warm feeling of lube-coated fingers fishing a little gasp out of him. His eyes fall shut as he slides a finger in up until the third knuckle, the tight heat of his body and the nice stimulation making him sigh deeply. He twirls his finger here and there, trying to find that amazing spot inside him, and fuck doesn’t he wish it was Tony’s finger working him open instead. He doesn’t back down, though. 

Pulling his finger out and adding two back in, he finally finds his prostate and _moans_ , holding onto Tony’s chest a little tighter. “What a shame,” He says, barely managing to get the words out. “It should be you, working me open like this,” he rambles, breathless, brief little moans leaving his lips without permission. “But that’s what you get for being stubborn.” Peter opens his eyes to find Tony looking at him with a burning intensity he’s never witnessed before, causing his small cock to twitch where it lies neglected under him.

Fucking into his hole more vigorously, Peter hits his prostate again and again until he’s so needy for Tony’s cock he’s aching, his clenching hole not being nearly full enough. So he pulls out his fingers and sits back up to carefully free Tony’s cock from his underwear, milking a little gasp out of Tony’s mouth.

In one swift move, Peter slams into Tony’s cock, not bothering to go slow, to adjust himself to Tony’s girth. It stretches him open and burns, way bigger than his fingers, but he doesn’t care. The moan that comes out of Tony is all the reward he needs. He’s taking Tony up to the hilt when he starts moving back up again, and Tony’s breath catches in his lungs.

“Fuck, oh my God,” Tony’s voice is almost desperate, and he clenches his jaw. “Fuck, Peter, go slow.” 

Peter slams back into him again, a guttural moan coming from Tony’s mouth. It burns again, but Peter doesn’t care. Punishing Tony is his only goal. 

“Like this?” Peter asks once he’s sliding up again, slowly but surely, the burn of Tony’s cock making his head go dizzy. Tony lets out a strangled noise, one which Peter imagines to be a yes, and so he slams back down into Tony’s hard girth, the filthiest noise he’s ever made coming out of his mouth as his prostate is hit.

“Go slow, go slow,” Tony pleads and raises one of his hands to grip at Peter’s thighs. 

Peter slaps him away. “I said no touching.” He says again, twisting in Tony’s cock as he sat by the hilt of it, not moving upwards again just yet.

Tony lets out a long and loud “Ohhhhhh” and _hisses_ as Peter slams into him one more time. He curses and bites his lips and has to clench at the sheets to stop himself from touching Peter again. He looks tortured and ravenous and it makes Peter’s mouth go dry.

“Pete baby, fuck,” He says, hyperventilating a little, the effort not to roll Peter onto his back and take the lead clearly taking a toll on him. “Go slow, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

Peter then decides to comply with Tony’s requests, only because it gives him another window to torture him. Propping himself up again, he starts sliding back up in a torturous motion, little involuntary sighs escaping from the back of his throat. He rides Tony back down even slower, pacing himself, the feel of Tony’s cock stretching around him feeling _just so perfect_. He’s big and he’s thick and Peter gets to have all the fun he wishes. He’s so lucky, fuck, he really is.

Not fastening up in the slightest, Peter notices Tony’s breath getting heavier, his chest moving up and down in long sighs. “Is this slow enough for you?” He asks, a little breathless himself, taking his sweet time finding out what makes him feel good, twisting it a bit here and there for better results. “What a shame it is, that I have to do this,” Peter continues, getting bolder. “Because you were too lazy to fuck me yourself.” 

Peter keeps that rhythm for five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes. He feels each painfully slow thrust tearing at Tony’s control a bit more, knows Tony wants to touch him so badly, wants to slam into him fast and hard, the way Peter likes it. But he keeps going, keeps going until Tony is squirming beneath him, knows Tony can’t come at that speed so it’s torture, and then Tony breaks.

Grasping at Peter’s ass with skin-tearing strength, Tony buckles his hips up and starts fucking into him hard. Peter doesn’t even pretend to try and move Tony’s hands from him. His goal has been accomplished. Flipping them over on the bed, Tony slams directly into his prostate and he cries out, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. 

Tony then starts saying the dirtiest things Peter’s ever heard coming out of his mouth, too lust-struck to care. “This is how you want it, huh?” His voice is rough and his strokes are pitiless. He bites hard down on Peter’s shoulder, causing Peter to forget about the pleasure and wince in pain, and the way Tony angles up with his prostate too many times in a row has him making strangled loud noises, the pain and the pleasure of it all being too much. He wants to tell Tony to stop, it’s too much and too fast and too hard, but then he’s crying and coming and whining and the pain blurs into oblivion.

He comes untouched, harder than he ever has in his life, and Tony follows him shortly after, slamming into him until his hole is clenching and aching from over-stimulation. It feels like an out-of-body experience, those last couple of minutes of Tony fucking into his worn out body, taking what he wants with no account of how he feels, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Having rode out every last aftershock, Tony’s body goes relaxed above him. He pulls his softening cock out of Peter’s body; without it Peter’s hole is open, loose, come dripping out of it, making him feel all sorts of dirty and blissed out and so, so tired. Tony seems to come back to his senses then, looking at Peter in a panicked way, like he’s sorry. He brings his hands up to Peter’s face and wipes his tears away, an unmistakable look of remorse taking over his complexion.

“Baby.” Tony says softly and another tear involuntarily rolls down Peter’s cheek, maybe from how sweet Tony’s voice sounds, how sweet Tony is to him. “Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” He cups Peter’s face in his hands and kisses his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. Soft, like he’s trying to heal Peter, like Peter’s made of glass, and another tear creeps out of Peter’s eyes.

Peter can’t say anything, can’t move, can’t tell Tony it’s okay, it’s okay, you could never hurt me. So Tony lies down beside him and brings him close, shoving Peter’s face into his chest and shielding his entire upper-torso with both his arms, kissing the top of Peter’s head.

And there Peter stays, hearing Tony’s heartbeat, the smell of sweat and mint soap and sex and _Tony_ filling his nose, drugging him up real good. He can’t remember much then, except for the way sleep creeps up on him and takes him away, not giving him a chance to protest. 

And so, Peter Parker finally sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all mind if i make myself comfortable in this dumpster? 's pretty comfy in here


End file.
